The Vacant Year
by Skipper96
Summary: Set in-between season 5/6...Dean shows up on Lisa's doorstep a broken man and she helps him begin the long process of piecing himself back together.
1. Chapter 1

What's up guys? I've really been on a writing kick…so many ideas and not enough hours in the day. Anyway, I've wanted to write something like this for a while…. there were just so many feels at the end of season 5 and beginning of season 6, I just had to see if I could cover them a few. As always all mistakes are mine and the boys don't belong to me, if they did then I wouldn't be a broke college student. Enjoy :)

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**The Vacant Year**

_Chapter One_

When Dean shows up on Lisa's doorstep she welcomes him in with open arms. She wraps her hand around his wrist and gently tugs him inside. She guides him through her home and into the living room. She's grateful that Ben is at a sleepover and doesn't have to seen Dean…so distraught.

She lightly presses on his shoulder until Dean is perched on the edge of the couch. Dean is rigid, his haunted green eyes shift nervously around the room. Lisa squeezes his shoulder and with her other hand she gingerly tilts his head towards her. His skin is ashen and clammy under her fingers. She can feel the tremors running through his frame.

"Hey," she says softly, like she is speaking with a frightened child. "I'll be right back okay? I'm just gonna go make you some coffee."

She doesn't expect a response back, she doesn't even know if he'll drink the liquid. But, she feels the urge to try. She runs her fingers through his short, sweaty locks before hurrying to the kitchen.

While the coffee is brewing, Lisa rummages through the cabinet above the stove, searching for her stash of hard liquor. She pulls out a new bottle of whiskey and takes a swing before pouring a generous amount into a mug.

She runs a hand down her face. She knows something big just went down and Dean was caught in the middle of it. What exactly transpired that caused him to shut down like this must have been huge. But, right now she can't worry about that, all that matters is making sure Dean is okay. He'll tell her when he's ready.

She leans against the sink and impatiently taps her fingers on the counter top, silently willing the machine to brew faster. After a seemingly infinite amount of time, which in reality was only ten minutes, the brown liquid finally stopped dripping through the filter.

Lisa yanks the pot off and haphazardly dumps the steaming coffee into the mug. In her haste, a few drops sloshed onto the counter, but she could care less. All that mattered at the moment is the shell-shocked man on her sofa.

Lisa carefully carries the mug across the expanse of the kitchen and into the living room. Dean is exactly where she left him. His hands are clenched into fists in his lap and he's slightly swaying back and forth.

She smiles sadly and sets the mug down on the table in front of him. He doesn't register the cup or Lisa, until she sits down next to him. His muscles constrict further when the cushion dips under her weight.

"Hey, it's okay," she says soothingly. "It's just me."

Dean slowly looks over at her, his eyes shimmering with flecks of hope. "Sammy?" he questions, his voice quivering.

Lisa's chest aches at the longing expressed through the one word. Then, she stifles a gasp when the implication behind the questioning hits her…at the reason why Dean is here…

"Dean," she says in a light forceful tone. "You're in Indiana." She places her hand on his forearm. "Where's Sam, Dean?"

Dean's gaze flashes around the room as if he expects to see Sam standing in the corner. He looks Lisa straight in the eyes and her heart cracks even more. His green eyes are swimming in unshed tears, his intense gaze radiating pure misery.

Dean swallows thickly before responding. "Gone."

He breaks his eyes away from hers and lets his head fall to his chest as if it weighs a thousand tons. Lisa remains completely motionless until she sees the single tear splash onto his jeans. She cautiously raises her arm and inches towards him. The last thing she wants to do is startle Dean and scare him off. Especially since he's so vulnerable.

Lisa slides her arm around his shoulders and gradually guides his body backwards. She can feel the strained muscles in Dean's back shuddering from exhaustion. She rubs slow circles through his jacket as she mumbles a litany of, "It's okay" or "it's going to be alright." Even though she knows it never will be.

She bends her neck down to peer at Dean's face. There is one lone tear track on his pale cheek. His eyes are downcast and intently inspecting his worn boots.

"Hey Dean?" Lisa asks. "You wanna take your jacket off?" No response. "I'm sure you'll be more comfortable without it." This time Dean sniffles and gives her a minuscule nod.

Lisa internally cheers at the small response, glad that Dean isn't completely catatonic. She presses the palm of her hand between his shoulder blades to tenderly urge him to lean forward. Lisa coaxes his hands out of the tight balls they are wound in and makes quick work of peeling the jacket off. She tosses the garment over the arm of the couch.

She drapes her arm back around his shoulders and maneuvers him backwards. As she resumes stroking his arm again, Dean chokes back a sob.

"It's okay Dean," Lisa repeats. "Just let it out."

She moves her hand to the back of his neck and pulls his head down until it's resting on her shoulder. Lisa alternates between massaging the back of his neck and running her fingers through his hair. Finally, she feels his shoulders quake as the first sob wracks his frame.

Lisa tightens her grip on him and tugs him closer. Dean drags his legs up off the ground and onto the sofa. She watches as he buries his face in her thigh and curls into a ball.

For a moment Lisa is startled by how defenseless and young Dean appears. From the little time she has spent with him, she knows Dean never lets his walls down like this. When she feels the tears leaking from his eyes seep into her jeans she instantly jolts into action.

Lisa soothingly rubs her hand along his spine and caresses the back of his neck. Her legs have long since gone numb when Dean's body goes lax. Lisa continues to sooth and comfort him even in sleep, hoping to keep the terror filled dreams away long enough for him to get a semi-restful slumber.

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So, what did you guys think? Should I add a chapter or work on a sequel? Review and let me know. Have an amazing day everyone :)


	2. Chapter 2

So, I decided to go ahead and write another chapter…hope you guys enjoy. Same disclaimers as there were in the first chapter and all mistakes are mine. Enjoy :)

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**The Vacant Year**

_Chapter Two_

Dean wakes up swinging, groping for the bowie knife that isn't there. He jack-knifes up into a sitting position. His breathe comes out in short pulls. He balls the sheets up in his fists and his gaze dances frantically around the room.

'_Sam! Where's Sam? There's only one bed…SAM!" _His brain screams at him.

Panic rises in his chest; sweat drips from his pores causing his grey t-shirt to cling to him. He doesn't know where he is. This isn't some skeevy middle-of-nowhere motel room. The bed is too soft, there's no faded, ugly wallpaper, and there's no funky smell. His breathing speeds up further as the last tendrils of his nightmare make themselves known.

Sam…Sam was in trouble in it. Lucifer was in him…and there was fire…and a cage…

'_SamSamSamSam…gotta get to Sammy he's being held hostage," _his brain chants.

But how can he get to Sam if he doesn't know where he is? Dean throws the blankets back and leaps off the bed.

'_Where's my duffel? My guns?' _

A hand shoots out and latches onto his wrist.

"Dean?" A quite female voice asks. "What's wrong?"

He cautiously turns his head back towards the bed, his sense on high alert. Then his panic filled green eyes meet Lisa's soft brown ones and it all comes flooding back.

Sam…hole…Cage…a promise he made…Lisa and Ben…

A gentle tug on his arm has him easing himself back onto the edge of the bed. There's shuffling behind him as Lisa scoots over. She places her hand on his bicep. Her touch sears his skin…like Sammy's skin melting off in Hell. He flinches away from her.

"You okay?" Lisa asks even though it's obvious he's not.

His breathing is raspy and sweat coats his body. He keeps his hand tightly fisted to hide the shaking.

'_Sammy punching me…Sammy snapping Bobby's neck…Sammy jumping into the Cage…Sammy…' _

"I'm fine," he mumbles as he stands back up and heads towards the door.

"Where're you going?" Lisa asks.

Dean can sense the fear in her voice. Fear that he's going to get in his car and drive away…like he should have the morning after he showed up here. He doesn't deserve this hospitality or kindness. Not after he let Sammy die…

He attempts to shake that last thought from his head.

"Just gonna go watch some late night TV." He forces a smile. "Go back to sleep." He plants a soft kiss on her cheek before leaving.

Dean hopes that the monotonous tone of the TV will send him into a dreamless sleep. No such luck. All the flickering images cause are his own Hell memories to resurface.

The flashing behind his eyelids are eerily similar to the lightning storms and the laughter that floats through the room sound more like screams of terror. He can almost taste the sulfuric air when he jabs his finger down on the power button. He vigorously paces the expanse of the room to chase the torturous screeches from his brain.

Once the screams tone back, Dean gazes down at the cushions and debates on laying back down. But, he knows the endless tossing and turning will frustrate him so he ventures into Lisa's home office.

Dean flips on the desk lamp and boots up the computer. If he's going to have yet another sleepless night he might as well continue researching on how the hell he's going to get Sam out of Hell.

* * *

Lisa wakes feeling refreshed. She stretches her hand over to Dean's side of the bed and isn't surprised to find the space vacant. Since Dean unofficially moved in two weeks ago this had been the routine. At first he slept on the couch, but after a couple days there Lisa bullied him into the guest bedroom, where he would wake up screaming.

After a particular nasty nightmare she was able to coax him into her room. She hoped that maybe having a living, breathing human next to him all night would help keep the terror at bay. Even though her tactic doesn't work, she still leads him into her room every night. It makes her feel better to know that he's safe.

The only time Dean slept more than three hours was his first night here. The night that will forever be engraved in Lisa's mind. To Lisa's knowledge that was the only time Dean cried over his brother.

She sighs and leavers herself up. After a quick shower she follows the aroma of coffee down the steps and finds Dean sitting fully dressed at the table reading the paper.

"Morning," Lisa says loudly and clearly.

One morning she accidently snuck up on him. In three seconds flat, Dean slammed her against the wall with his switchblade gripped in his hand. Lisa stayed completely still, the only sign of her fear was her shuddering breath.

Eventually the harsh hunter stare melted into horror. He buried himself under his car for the rest of the day. Lisa didn't want a repeat of that so she made sure to make her movements obvious and deliberate around him.

"Hey," Dean says. He looks up at her and smiles.

But, Lisa can see through the mask. Her heart aches at the fake smiles and laughter that never quire reach his eyes. She yearns to do more for him, but since that first night Dean has kept his emotions closely tethered to him.

"Anything _interesting_ in the news?" she asks, emphasizing the word 'interesting'.

Dean folds up and puts the paper down. "Nope." He gulps down the last of his coffee and gets up for a refill. "Coffee?" he asks.

"Sure," Lisa responds. But, she wonders what cup number Dean is on. He has been averaging four to six a day depending on how much sleep he got. And at least one cup had a little alcoholic kick.

Dean grabs another mug out of the cabinet and fills it up before topping off his own. He carries them back to the table, sits down, and slides hers over.

Lisa takes a sip and sighs. It's perfect, just the right amount of sugar. "So what's on the agenda today?" she asks.

Dean shrugs. "Probably gonna work on the truck."

That's what he does. That's how he hides from the pain. He immerses himself under the old pickup and tinkers, the old car becoming a shield between Dean and the world.

"Ben has a game today," she says hopefully. "I'm sure he'd love it if you came."

She watches Dean take slow sips of his coffee as he contemplates the offer. "Okay," he finally says.

Lisa is taken aback. She expected this to be more of a fight. She already had a few counter arguments ready to fire at him. She's been trying to get Dean out of the house for days figuring that being out in the world would do him good.

"Great!" She smiles reassuringly. "Game's at two, we need to leave by one-thirty."

"Just come get me when it's time," Dean says as he refills his mug and heads into the garage.

Lisa sighs when she hears the door close. Although he's showered and shaved, his body is screaming exhaustion. His face is a shade paler and there's purple bruises splotched under his eyes. His attitude has lost its gusto.

She wishes Dean would let her in. She knows nothing will ever be able to fill the Sam sized hole in his heart, but she can at least be there to try and lessen the blow.

At that moment she hears Ben thumping down the stairs. She lets all thoughts about Dean drift to the back of her mind. Ben knows this Dean is different from the Dean he met years ago, thankfully he doesn't pester Dean about it. He only asks Lisa when Dean's not around.

Questions about monster hunting. And where Sam is. And what happened. And why is Dean quiet.

Lisa answers them to be best of her ability, not telling the whole truth but giving her son enough information so he'd at least understand. She told him that Dean and his brother fought in a war, saved the world, but Sam didn't make it.

Ben called Dean an unknown hero and hasn't asked any more questions since then.

"Morning Sweetie," Lisa says when Ben bursts into the kitchen.

"Morning," Ben says as he grabs his cereal off the counter and snags the milk out of the fridge. "Where's Dean?"

"Working on the car," Lisa replies as she reaches for the paper. "He's coming to you're game."

"Really?" Ben asks, his eyes lighting up with the prospect of Dean attending.

"Really," Lisa says smiling.

"Awesome!" Ben responds around a spoonful of cereal.

When Ben finishes eating he races back up to his room to play videogames before he has to go. Lisa goes back to reading the paper, but she's not paying much attention to the words written. She's thinking of ways to subtly help Dean.

* * *

Hours tick by without Dean realizing it. Everything under the hood of this truck made sense to him. It's familiar. His hand works almost melts away and Dean can focus on the mechanics. It's the one place where he's not overwhelmed with memories and emotions. After all, this is just some old truck he's working on not his Baby.

Dean is forced out of his safety bubble when Lisa bangs the door open. He's setting the wrench down and wiping the oil off his hands when the door slams closed.

"Dean!" Lisa calls as she makes her way over. "You get it running yet?"

"Almost," Dean says as he closes the hood. "Time to go?" Lisa nods. "Okay, just need to grab my jacket."

'_And my gun,'_ Dean thinks.

Dean removes his green jacket from the closet and tugs it on, making sure his Colt is safely tucked in the inside pocket. Lisa is waiting by the door with the keys dangling from her fingers.

"You wanna drive?" she asks.

The question is innocent enough, but it sends a whirlwind of memories racing through Dean's mind.

Sam taking the keys after the wendigo hunt…Sam sleeping in the passengers seat while he drove…Sam complaining about the music…Sammy…

"No, don't want to get us lost," Dean states hoping that Lisa doesn't see through the excuse.

Dean watches the houses go by. Never in his life did he think he'd ever be riding shotgun while driving through some white-picket fence neighborhood. As they pass by houses, schools, and stores Dean feels unreal.

He shouldn't be here in this car. He should be out on the demonic battlefield. He should be hunting down those evil-sons-of-bitches until one of them spills on hos to spring Sam from the Cage. But, he made a promise.

The car sliding into park jars Dean out of his head. The baseball field looms in front of him like storm clouds. Even from here he can see how crowded the bleachers are. All those people…all those threats…

Lisa's hand is suddenly on his knee, warm and comforting. "We'll take it slow okay?"

Dean nods and pushes the passenger door open. He steps out into the sunlight and rounds the car to stand by Lisa. They walk side-by-side to the stands and Lisa nudges him with her elbow, encouraging him to pick a seat.

Dean's biker boots clunk on the metal steps. He scans each person as he walks to the very top. The stands aren't as crowded as he first thought they were. Dean lets Lisa step into the row first to he can have the aisle seat.

From here Dean can see everything. He's at the perfect vantage point to watch everybody and their intentions. He also has an escape if something goes wrong and he needs to get Lisa out of here.

'_This isn't so bad,'_ Dean thinks. _'All I have to do is watch the game.'_

Then the rest of the spectators trickle in. The bleachers fill up with parents, relatives, and friends. They aren't packed together like sardines, but they're close enough to make Dean twitchy.

The first pitch is thrown and Dean scans the field searching for Ben. He finds him standing in a half-crouch at first-base. Dean tries to stay focused on him but, then the guy two rows down sneezes and the woman across the way gets a phone call.

Bu the third inning he's not looking at the field anymore. His head is on a swivel as he attempts to track everybody at once. But he can't. And Sam's not there to watch his back. And Dean's breathing speeds up as his mind if filled with images of Sam being ripped to shreds by Lucifer.

Then there's a slight pressure on his knee that has Dean reaching for his gun. But, another hand pushes his arm down.

"Hey Dean." Lisa's voice cuts through the fog surrounding his head. "Dean look at me." A feather light touch guides his head towards her.

"What's going on?" she asks quietly, making sure not to raise the attention of those sitting around them.

"Too many people," Dean whispers, his eyes darting frantically around the stands.

As Dean's breathings speeds up again Lisa's fingers interlock with his. The surprise of the action snaps his focus from all the people. Then, her thumb is slowly painting a circular pattern across the back of his hand. The soothing motion eases Dean's attention away from all the people and back to Ben.

Throughout the rest of the game, Lisa kept her fingers intertwined with his. Dean found the contact grounding. It reminded him that he's at a little league baseball game with regular people.

There's no monster, no ghost, no demon he needs to keep his eyes on. All he has to do is watch Ben hit the ball and cheer when he slides in safely at home plate.

Towards the end of the game, Dean actually started getting into what is happening on field, groaning when the other team scored and clapping when their team struck a batter out. And for the first time in a long time, Dean feels normal and maybe everything will be okay.

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So….what do you guys think? Another chapter? Got any ideas for a chapter or a sequel? Review and let me know how I'm doing, I'd really appreciate it. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Hey Guys, so I wrote another chapter…this one got away from me a little bit. I just started writing without really any direction and look what happened. Well, I hope this new chapter is as satisfying as the first two. As always all mistakes are mine and I sadly don't own the boys. Enjoy :)

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**The Vacant Year**

_Chapter Three_

After the game, Dean and Lisa hang back with the other parents who are also waiting on their kids. Lisa stands in a circle with them chatting about the game, neighborhood gossip, and the latest PTA meeting.

At least that's what Dean assumes they are discussing. He's leaning against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest scanning the world. Dean is waiting for one of the parents to pop black eyes and start killing people.

Eventually, Ben comes running out of the dugout with the other kids. They chatter together in their own circle before breaking off to join their parents. Dean watches them interact so flawlessly together, so unaware of the world around them. At any moment they could be jumped by a demon…and they don't even know it.

"DEAN!" Ben calls, snapping Dean's attention away from threat detecting.

Ben runs towards him, there's dirt smeared across his cheek and his once white pants are grass stained. Dean stiffens. For a second he doesn't see Ben charging at him, but seven-year-old Sammy.

Sammy after he played in his first soccer game and scored his first goal. Sammy with joy shinning in his hazel eyes sprinting towards him with a youthful spark in his gate. Sammy bouncing circles around him asking: "did you see me Dean? Did you?"

The he smiled fondly down at Sammy and slung an arm around Sammy's shoulders and says: "I sure did. How about some ice cream Soccer-Star?"

And Sammy would nod vigorously. They'd walk off to the closest ice cream parlor and Sammy would get vanilla with rainbow sprinkles and hot fudge…

Dean blinks rapidly back into the present and scrubs his hands over his face washing away the tears building up behind his eyes. He zeroes in on Ben charging towards him with Lisa trailing a few paces behind, it's the only way he can stop himself from completely breaking down.

"I'm soooo glad you game Dean," Ben exclaims, his eyes bright with joy.

"'Course I came," Dean drawls as he wraps his arm around Ben's shoulders and pulls him into a half-embrace. "Wouldn't miss it for the world." Dean smiles charmingly down at him.

Although he'd rather be in the garage right now, fiddling with the inside of the car. Being out in the "real world" gives him too much time to think. Being out in the world that he and Sam saved and Sam not being here to see it…just hurts.

He's fairly certain Lisa sees through the fake smiles and laughs. But he has to do put on a show. They don't need to know how bad it really is. How torn up and raw he feels inside. Almost as if Alistair is inside of him slicing and dicing until there's nothing left but ground and shredded organs. So he puts up his triple-iron enforced walls, plastering his charm-all smile to his face and fakes it.

They walk to Lisa's Sedan almost like they're a family. Dean almost feels as if he belongs there. But, the other parents are shooting him weary side glances. He shoves his hands deep into his jean pockets. Dean keeps his gaze downcast as they stroll by, not wanting to draw anymore unwanted attention.

Dean feels as if he's intruding on some kind of underground cult. He feels their gaze bore into his back as he passes by. He feels the questions swirling around the air like a light breeze.

Who is he? Where did he come from? What's he doing with Lisa? Is that Ben's father?

Relief rushes through him when they finally reach the car. He slips into the passenger's seat and slams the door closed, successfully shutting out the world. As per Ben requests AC/DC is blasting through the speakers as they drive to the diner for an early dinner.

Dean's okay until "Back in Black" comes on…

_'Dude, you gotta update your cassette collection.'_

_ 'Why?'_

_ 'Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two Black Sabbath, Mot__örhead, Metallica? It's the greatest hits of mullet rock.'_

_ 'House rules Sammy, driver picks the music shotgun shuts his cakehole.'_

_ 'You know, 'Sammy' is a chubby twelve-year-old. It's Sam okay?'_

_ 'Sorry, can't hear you…the music's too loud.'_

From the sympathetic look he receives from Lisa, he knows his eyes must look misty. And even though his heart aches at the bittersweet memory, Dean can't help the slight smile that passes across his lips when he thinks of Sam's scowl at the nickname and the music choice.

They're seated at a booth in the back corner. Dean makes sure to sit with his back to the wall so he can face the door and watch for incoming threats. Ben crawls over to the window and Lisa slides in next to him.

The diner carries the same atmosphere as all the other roadside diners that he and Sam stopped in daily. Dean stares down at the menu, taking note of all the 'rabbit food' Sam would order and try to persuade Dean to order.

When the waitress comes by to take their order, Dean sticks to his usual bacon-cheeseburger with fries. After a long debate between chicken fingers and a chili-cheese dog, Ben decides on chicken with a chocolate shake and Lisa goes with a grilled chicken sandwich.

While they wait for their food, Dean stars out the window and watches the cars pass by. He's only half-listening to the conversation happening at the table, something about Ben's solar system science project that's due next week. The talk about space causes Dean's mind to drift to Heaven…

He wonders how Cas is doing. With the Apocalypse halted he contemplates what the angels how the angels are spending their free time…probably being dicks as usual. Thinking of Heaven of course leads his thoughts down to the Pit…where his baby brother is locked in a cage with two pissed off angels…who are probably playing Ping-Pong with Sammy's soul…

"Dean." Suddenly there's a hand waving in front of his face, yanking him out of the dark road his thoughts are heading down.

"Wha…?" His hand automatically goes for his gun as his eyes scan for the threat…but there is none.

"Food's here," Lisa says gesturing down at the plate that magically appeared in front of him.

Ben eagerly digs into his food, dipping tenders into BBQ sauce, crunching his fries, and slurping his shake. Although Lisa is less ravenous about it, she's also quick to dive in. Dean, on the other hand, picks his burger up and stares at it. Grease dips from the bun and splats onto the plate, forming an orange-brown puddle.

It's not the grease that makes the burger unappetizing…it's the memories associated with the drips. Each one reminds him of a different diner, in a different town, with a different hunt and the same Sammy.

Dean feels Lisa's gaze boring a hole through his forehead, so he takes a massive bite. It's juicy and delicious and he can hear Sam's voice ringing through his brain…_'Dude, manners.'_ He's able to choke down half his burger before the grease puddle of memories overwhelms him and he pushes his plate away.

* * *

Lisa observes as Dean slides his plate away. She inwardly sighs. When she decided they'd eat out tonight, she opted fro the diner over the little Italian place she loves. First of all, Ben has been nagging her for the last about milkshakes. And secondly, she hoped the familiar diner atmosphere would entice Dean to eat.

She's not saying that Dean doesn't eat. He just doesn't eat enough. Halfway through a meal, no matter what he's eating, Deal will just stop as if the simple act of eating is traumatizing. Lisa desires to coax him into taking a few more bites, but as usual she stays silent, not wanting to push him farther away from her than she already is.

On the way home, Ben rocks to the rest of his AC/DC CD. His leg bounces up and down while he plays air guitar and sings along. Her son knows Dean is a classic rock fan. She believes this is Ben's attempt at lightening Dean's dark mood to draw him out of the walls he's fortified around himself.

Lisa steals glances at Dean as she drives. They are brief split-second studies, but they are enough. He's constantly shifting in his seat, fingers drumming on his thigh. She sees the tension in his hunched up form and she doesn't need to see his face to know its pale tinge makes the dark bruises under his eyes stand out.

As soon as they're through the front door, Ben rushes up the stairs. When Lisa hears the shower going, she knows she won't be seeing her son until tomorrow morning.

When Lisa enters the living room, Dean rigidly sits on the edge of the couch cushion running a hand down his face. Even from where she stands at the other end of the room, she sees the weariness emanating off of him.

She coughs to make her presence known as she fully walks into the room. Lisa sits down next to him, ensuring there is adequate space between them.

"Hey," Lisa says as she lightly rubs the back of his shoulder. His muscles tense under her fingers, but she doesn't remove her hand. "Why don't we hit the rack early tonight?"

She's unprepared for what happens next.

He violently flinches away and squashes himself between the back and the arm of the couch.

Lisa snaps her body towards him. "Dean?" She can't keep the panic from leaking into her voice.

His body freezes, muscles taut and strained, as he becomes a captive of his own memories. His whole body shakes as tremors rip through him. His skin is clammy, he's gasping.

Lisa reaches out to him, but he scrambles away, squeezing his as shuts as he mumbles, "Nononononono…"

Lisa stumbles off the couch and backs away with her hands held out in the universal 'I mean no harm' gesture. She watches his pulse throb against his pale skin as sweat trickles down his face soaking into his black t-shirt. He pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around himself. He slowly rocks back and forth as he mumbles to himself.

"Nottherenotthere…safesafe…go'ou'ree'…no'ains…I'an'ove…'m'ot'ere…"

The only phrases she is able to decipher from the litany he utters are: "not there" and "safe". Lisa gazes on helplessly as Dean breaks down. But, she can't just stand there and do nothing. So, she lets her maternal instincts take over. She settles herself back down on the cushion and scoots a couple inches closer to him. She places her hand on his knee.

"It's okay Dean," Lisa murmurs. "You're not there anymore. Everything's okay, you're safe Dean." She stretches her hand up and runs her fingers through his sweat-slicked hair.

The contact jolts Dean out of his own mind. He surges off the couch and out the front door. At first, Lisa is too shocked and terrified to follow. She gives him a few minutes before she cautiously heads outside. She finds him sprawled on his back in the dew-coated grass, staring up at the stars, and gasping for air.

"Dean?" Lisa asks tentatively.

"'m okay."

She knows that's far from the truth. But, she lets it slide for his sake she can pretend it's okay.

"Just too hot there." He says, mostly to himself.

"Too hot where Dean?" Lisa regrets asking the question the second it passes her lips. She's definitely not prepared for the answer.

"Hell."

* * *

So…what do you guys think? You psyched for the next chapter? Have any theories or ideas? Review and let me know, I'd love to hear from you. Have a fantastic day everyone :)


	4. Chapter 4

Well, here we go again guys! As always I don't own this and all mistakes are mine. I hope this chapter is just as satisfying at the first three. :)

* * *

**The Vacant Year**

_Chapter 4_

The world around Lisa melts away as Dean's words seep into her brain. Hell? That has to be a metaphor right? He had to mean 'abducted by some psycho and tortured like it was Hell', right? Even she didn't buy the lies she is telling herself. She stands there, locked in place as Dean sits up with his back to her. There's a fine tremor running through him, his shoulders sporadically hitch up as he silently cries. Her first instinct is to sit with him and utter reassurances as he sobs into her chest, but she knows that act will be unwanted. Also, what do you say to someone who has literally been to Hell and back?

Lisa ends up sitting down next to him, mimicking his position. Legs drawn up with her arms draped loosely across her knees. She doesn't look at him, doesn't attempt to reach out to him. She sits there staring straight ahead and will be there for him if he decides to reach out.

She doesn't know how long they remain like that. But, eventually Dean rubs the back of his hand across his eyes and take a deep breathe before straightening up. He briefly looks over at her, when their eyes meet he quickly averts them to the ground.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"Hey," Lisa says, bending her head down to try and meet his gaze. "Dean looks t me."

Dean slowly drags his eyes up. Lisa stifles a gasp at the raw emotion glistening in them. Layers of agony, terror, and regret. She blinks back the tears that threaten to fall and steels herself. Right now, Dean is the one who needs someone to fall back on.

"In no way is this your fault, Dean. Understand?" she says firmly, but gently.

Despite Dean's tiny nod of affirmation, Lisa knows he's not buying what she's selling.

"I'm gonna go to bed," Dean mumbles as he pushes himself up.

He brushes bits of grass and leaves off his jeans before stumbling back inside. Lisa remains seated in the grass, gazing up at the stars. The night is clear and crisp, the moonlight dusting the world in a pale light. So peaceful compared to the turmoil wrecking havoc on Dean's mind. A hurricane of memories she knows nothing about.

Lisa sits under the stars and allows herself to cry for Dean. For the little boy who lost his mother. For the child who grew up too fast. For the teenager who raised his brother. And for the man who saved the world and lost everything doing so.

When her eyes dry, Lisa heads back inside. She locks and salts the door then does a quick sweep around the house to ensure all the windows are latched. She flips the lights off as she walks up the stairs. She passes by the spare bedroom on the way to her room. Lisa notes that the door is closed. She pauses in front of the door and raises her fist. She goes to rap on the wood, but pulls away at the last second. As much as she aches to be in there with him, but she knows Dean doesn't want her around.

He'd already let a fragment of his armor clatter to the ground. Tonight, Lisa got her first view of Dean Winchester without his mask firmly bolted in place. She knows that they have a lot of legwork ahead of them if they're going to heal the damage.

Lisa slept little that night. Haunted by her own imagination. She can't even begin to fathom what Hell is like. All she pictures when she closes her eyes are the depictions from Hollywood movies, a giant bonfire roasting damned souls. Eventually, she slips into a restless sleep a couple hours before her alarm goes off at nine. She stays in the shower longer than usual, hoping the warm water will wash away the chill her thoughts have left behind.

She steps out in a veil of steam and quickly mops the water off her skin. After towel drying her hair, Lisa dresses in her lounge around the house clothes - a pair of black yoga pants and one of her old college t-shirts. Once dressed, she pads down the hallway to Ben's room. She knocks twice before entering.

"Ben, honey, time to get up," Lisa says sweetly. Her son groans and tugs the covers over his head. "Come on, we gotta get that science project done today."'

She crosses the room and jerks the covers back to reveal Ben's sleep-matted hair. He blinks sleepily at her and she smiles.

"Up, up." She playfully slaps his shoulder. "I'm making pancakes."

That gets him up. Within thirty-seconds of her saying that, Ben leaps off the bed and bolts out of the room. When she hears the shower whoosh on, she heads to the kitchen.

Lisa halts outside the guest bedroom. She rests her hand on the cool wood before lightly raking her knuckles against the door. No answer. She waits a few seconds before slowly turning the knob and pushing the door open. She cracks it just enough to poke her head through.

Dean lays on his side fully clothed, boots and everything. The gun he grips glints in the sunlight that's streaming through the window. His muscles quiver under his shirt. She watches him visibly attempt to slow his shaky breathing in a futile effort to feign sleep. Lisa smiles sadly and shuts the door.

She powers up the coffee maker before anything else. While the coffee is brewing, she begins the process of making pancakes. First, she goes in search of the griddle, which got buried who knows where in the back of the cabinet. Once she has uncovered that she plugs it in and turns it on, allowing it time to heat up. Lisa then starts to make the batter. She cracks a couple of eggs into a bowl and whisks them together with some milk before adding the dry ingredients.

The coffee maker beeps and she pours herself a cup before scooping the batter onto the griddle. The goopy batter pops and sizzles when it hits the hot surface. Lisa leans against the counter and sips her coffee as she watches the pale mixture bubble. She's just flipping them when Ben comes bounding down the steps. He's dressed in one of his video game shirts and jeans. He hops up on the island stool and folds his arms over the counter.

"Where's Dean?" Ben inquires, he searches the room as if Dean will just pop up out of nowhere.

Lisa slides the spatula under the pancakes and precisely flips each one over with a plop. "He's not feeling well."

"Oh." Ben looks disappointed, but he quickly perks back up again. "We should make him some of Grandma's chicken-noodle soup." He beams up at her. "That's sure to make him feel better."

"I'm sure it would Honey." Lisa stacks the pancakes up on two plates and brings them over to the island. She sets them down and then goes back for her coffee and maple syrup. "How about we make him some for dinner tomorrow?"

"Okay," Ben says as he graciously dumps syrup on his breakfast.

"Hey! Easy on the sugar rush Dude," Lisa exclaims jokingly as she bumps into her son's shoulder.

As they ate Lisa half-listens to Ben as he chatters on about his video games. Even on a good day she struggles to keep up with him when this subject comes up. But today, she can barely follow his train of thought. Her mind keeps wandering to Dean, who's probably still huddled on the bed trying to disappear of the face of the Earth.

* * *

Dean watches the sunlight creep across the carpet and on to the wall. If his brain wasn't stuffed with sulfuric soaked cotton balls he might have been able to tell the time using the position of the sun's rays. But, his last concern is the time. Seconds ticking by aren't going to expel the tormented screeches of the mangled souls he tortured.

He's unsure how many seconds have slipped by since Lisa opened the door. Probably hours. He was appreciative that she left him alone earlier. He'd already placed too much of an unnecessary weight on her shoulders. Hell is his burden not hers. Which is why he needs to get his act together and burry everything that has happened.

Suddenly, there's a soft knock on the door. His body tense up as he prepares to feign sleep…

"Hey Dean?" Lisa softly calls. "I'm going to drop Ben off at his friend's house and then head to the store, you need anything?"

"No," Dean answers automatically.

"Okay…I'll be back in about an hour, you call if you need anything. I mean anything."

He hears her walk away and he lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Dean groans and pushes himself up on shaking arms. He sits on the edge of the bed and places his head in his hands. He drags his trembling fingers through his grimy, greasy hair and presses his thumbs into his eyes, trying to drive the burning sensation away. His muscles twitch with exhaustion, but he's wound too tightly to even consider sleeping.

He drops down to the floor, reaches under the bed, and fumbles around until his fingers brush over smooth glass. He lets out a low moan as he pulls the half-empty bottle of whiskey out. He stashed the bottler under the bed a couple of weeks ago, after a particularly grueling nightmare left him hoarse. His fingers slip off the cap twice before he's able to remove it.

Dean takes a large swig and throws his head back against the bed frame as the alcohol rushes through his veins. He knows there's not enough to get him drunk, he doesn't even know if he can get drunk anymore. He's hoping there's just enough left to give him a slight buzz, just enough to dull the soul deep throb pulsing through him.

He stares at the wall in front of him as he gradually drinks the amber liquid. Slowly but surely, the vivid memories of his time down under become fuzzy, unrecognizable blobs as the alcohol works its magic. He's able to make the bottle last as long as the sun. As the last streak of golden light sinks bellow the horizon the final drop of whiskey vanishes.

* * *

Luckily for Lisa, after breakfast her day becomes chaotic. Once the dishes were done, her and Ben got cracking on his science project. Two hours later he had a completed project done for class on Tuesday. She dropped Ben off at his friend's house before heading to the grocery store. She picks up all the ingredients they need to make Dean soup, she also grabs some peanut M&amp;M's for him. She knows this isn't a 'chocolate fix all' situation, but she's at least hoping for a smile.

When she returns home she decides against checking on Dean knowing that she'll get the same response. Him shutting her out is his screwed up way of coping. He doesn't deserve to be alone, and even if she'll never understand what he went through she's going to give him so much needed TLC. Which she plans on dishing out after her son retreats to his room for the night.

Lisa spends the rest of the afternoon browsing through Dean's search history on her computer. She figures the more she knows the easier it will be to help him. He's never been great at sharing and caring, so she's going to attempt to gather an understanding of what's going on in that head of his. She's sickened by what she finds. Every search revolves around breaking into Lucifer's cage…at first this puzzles her. Why would Dean want to break back into Hell? Does he think he deserves to be there? As she continues reading the pieces fall into place.

Sam.

Dean was in Hell. Sam is in Hell. Dean is haunted by what happened in Hell, yet is trying to break back in to get Sam. The bond between these two will never cease to amaze her.

She shuts down the computer and forces the revolting thoughts from her head. This is just a reminder at how strong Dean is. She would never be able to live with the memories _and_ consider trying to go back again. She drives the ideas from her brain by making dinner. Focusing completely on the task at hand and not on envisioning what Hell is like.

Lisa makes enough spaghetti for her and Ben, knowing Dean wouldn't come down even if she went up and asked. She plans on making him grilled cheese later. Ben marches through the door just as she's putting the final touches on the meal.

"Hey," she says. "I was just about to eat without you."

He smiles. "No you weren't," he states as he sits at the table. "Dean still not feeling well."

"No, I'm afraid not," she answers as she sets the plates on the table. "When you get home from school tomorrow we'll make him soup okay?"

"Yeah." Ben twists the noodles around his fork. "That'll make him feel better."

Ben talks about his afternoon as they eat. Afterwards, he does the dishes before saying goodnight and retreating to his room for the rest of the evening. Lisa hurriedly makes the grilled cheese she hops to persuade him into eating at least half. She considers bringing a glass of whiskey as a peace offering but nixes the idea and grabs a handful of M&amp;M's instead. Dean probably had some kind of liquor hidden up there anyway.

She hesitantly knocks on the door before entering. The knock was more out of curtsey than asking for permission. He's sitting on the floor and sure enough there's an empty bottle of something next to his thigh.

"Hey," Lisa says as she sits down next to him. "Made you a sandwich."

He tosses her a sideways glance. "Not hungry."

"Come on Dean, you haven't eaten all day. You're gonna make yourself sick."

Suddenly, he finds the carpet extremely captivating and starts nervously picking at a loose thread on his pants. So, Lisa switches tactics.

"How about I eat half, you eat half?" She holds part of the sandwich out to him. Eventually, he reaches out and takes it with shaking hands.

Dean gnaws on it, taking microscopic bites, but he manages to eat all of it. "Thanks," he says quietly.

They sit in silence after that, Dean fiddling with the string on his pants and Lisa contemplating on how to help him. Every so often she would pass an M&amp;M over to him and he'd take it, she avoided handing him the red ones though afraid those would make him think of fire and blood. She glances over at him when she thought he wasn't looking.

The pallor of his skin has gotten worse, it's ashen now, his eyes are sunken in and hallow. His once vibrant green orbs are now dull and grief filled. He's literally trembling from stress and exhaustion.

"Come on," Lisa says as she gets up and holds her hand down to him.

He blinks confusedly up at her. "Where."

"Bed. And no I'm not leaving you here," Lisa states when she sees a pointless attempt an argument begin to form on his lips. "I'll sleep better if you're there." He takes her hand and allows himself to be led down the hall.

Lisa closes the door and quickly gets changed. Even though it's only nine-thirty, she knows Dean needs this. His body is screaming for some TLC. When she comes out of the bathroom, he's sitting on the end of the bed looking unsure and on edge.

"Why don't you change into something more comfortable," Lisa suggests as she digs through his designated draw. She pulls out sweat pants and a black t-shirt and places them into his hands. He stares at them and blinks slowly, he doesn't move until she gently nudges him towards the bathroom.

Dean emerges a few minutes later and all but collapse onto the bed. Lisa pulls the covers up around them, making sure they aren't too tightly tucked in so he can move, and turns off the light. Dean stiffly sits beside her with his arms crossed over his chest, fighting to stay awake. Lisa scoots as close as she dares to him and tries to stay away with him. But, her sleep-deprived body has other ideas and soon she has slipped into dreamland.

* * *

Well…how did I do? Leave a review and let me know, I'd love to hear from you. Next chapter will be posted soon barring any collegey stuff I have to do. Hope you guys are having a fantastic day :)


	5. Chapter 5

Well, here it is guys, the final chapter. I hope this one ties it up as nicely as it can, but like Chuck said "endings are hard. As always all mistakes are mine and the Winchester's aren't mine. Hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

**The Vacant Year**

_Chapter Five_

Lisa sleeps more soundly than she thought she would. She only woke once when one of Dean's nightmares had him thrashing about. He ended up screaming himself awake and rolling as close to the edge of the bed as possible. The sound of his haggard breathing lulls her back to sleep.

She rises a half-hour before she has to get Ben up. She sits up and stretches her arms above her head. Lisa looks down at Dean. He's curled up on his side facing the door. The blanket is twisted up in his fingers and he keeps twitching in his fitful sleep.

Lisa carefully extracts herself from the bed. She freezes when he stirs slightly, but thankfully he doesn't wake. She creeps across the semi-dark room and quietly pulls open her dresser drawers. She removes her clothing and silently glides the drawer closed, ensuring that it doesn't bang shut. Lisa tugs the bathroom door shut before flipping the light switch. She's determined to keep whatever peace Dean for as long as possible. She keeps her shower brief this morning since Ben has school.

Dean's coughing when she returns to the bedroom. At the first they're tiny hacks, like he swallowed the wrong way. But they escalate until Dean gasps to breath over the side of the bed. Lisa swiftly crosses the expanse of the room. She places a hand on his back and rubs until the coughing abates.

"That doesn't sound too good," Lisa states.

"I'm fine, just a tickle," Dean lies.

She wishes to call him out on it but knows that will lead to his walls shooting back up and he doesn't have the energy to maintain them right now, so she lets it go.

"Coffee will be ready in fifteen," she calls as she leaves the room.

After rousing Ben, Lisa gets the coffee mater going. She opts for decaf this morning. The less wired Dean is the better. Dean stumbles the steps before Ben. He's showered and dressed but looks horrible.

He stiffly walks across the room as if his joints are filled with lead. He sits down at the table and digs his fingers into his temples when he thinks Lisa isn't looking. She pours him a cup of coffee and sets it in front him. He wraps both his hands around the mug as if he's soaking in the warmth.

Lisa sets about making Ben's lunch. She smears equal amounts of peanut butter and jelly on pieces of bread and puts a handful of M&amp;M's in bag. She places both of those items along with an apple and a juice box into his lunch bag. She's about to holler up to her son when she hears him thumping down the stairs.

"DEAN!" Ben exclaims.

Dean winces at the volume and forces a smile. "Hey Ben."

"Feeling any better?" Ben asks as he prepares his cereal.

Dean takes a sip of coffee. "Little bit."

Lisa frowns at the blatant lie but says nothing. She'll call him out on it later. "Hurry up and eat or you're gonna miss the bus," Lisa says as she sets his lunch bag down next to his backpack.

Ben shovels cereal down faster than she thought possible and is heading out the door less than ten minutes later. Lisa smiles fondly at her son's rushing and gets started on her own breakfast consisting of granola mixed with yogurt. "You want anything?" Lisa asks before she sits down.

"Refill?"

Lisa takes his mug and tops it off, passing it over to him before grabbing her own items and sitting down next to him. She visually examines him while she eats. Dean holds the mug with two hands due to the fine tremor running though his body. There's a thin sheet of sweat coating his face and his eyes keep drooping closed even though he just got up. The third time his chin dips to his chest Lisa shakes his arm.

"Why don't you go back to bed?"

"I'm fine, just need more coffee," Dean mumbles.

Lisa frowns. "Dean you're exhausted at least go lay on the couch, you don't have to sleep. Just give your body a day off."

He grumbles and begins to protest but before he can even get the first word out his lungs seize up and he starts hacking again. Deep, chest rattling coughs that has Lisa scrambling around behind him to vigorously rub between his shoulder blades. That's when she feels the heat. Even through the two layers he has on she feels the warmth oozing off his skin. Eventually the coughs taper off, but Lisa doesn't move.

She cups the back of his neck with one hand the palms his forehead with the other. He sluggishly attempts to bat her away, but fails. "Jeez Dean," mutters. "You're burni-hot."

The lack of a sarcastic come back confirms to her just how lousy he's feeling. "Couch now," Lisa orders. She knows it's a low blow, but Dean has never responded well to concerned requests.

She watches the internal battle play out on his features. A mask of defiant stubbornness settles in his eyes. He starts to formulate a counter argument but his defiance slips into defeat when he coughs again. Dean closes his eyes and pushes back from the table. He sways slightly when he rises, Lisa holds her hand out just in case she needs to grab hold of him. Dean quickly regains his balance and slowly makes his way to the couch.

Once Dean is seated, Lisa heads upstairs to her bathroom. While she raids the medicine cabinet, she calls her boss to inform him that Ben caught a stomach bug and she needs to stay home with him for the next couple days. Lisa is lucky her boss is the understanding type.

Lisa comes back down with her arms full of drugs and a couple blankets. She brought down everything she could possibly need. Cough syrup, Tylenol, and a thermometer. Gather the supplies was the easy part, now she just had to convince Dean to let her do all the work.

Dean's exactly where she left him. He cradles his head in has hands and massages his temples. His shoulders quake as fine shivers course through him. Lisa sets the bundle of items down on the couch arm and holds the thermometer out to him, he waves his hand dismissively.

"Dean, I need to know how high it is," Lisa remarks.

Dean shrugs and goes back to rubbing his temples. And that's when it slams into her. He believes he deserves this. In his mind he failed and therefore has to suffer. He failed Sam, his father, and his own standards. Now he's self-punishing by pushing his body far beyond its breaking point. Lisa moves around to the front of the couch and perches herself on the edge of the coffee table. Dean's gazing down at his lap.

"Hey," Lisa says as she gently tilts his chin up. "I don't know what happened to Sam, but I do know he thought the world of you. You're his hero. And no matter what you'll always be his big brother. Now, I think it's time that the man who saved the world got a little attention." She smiles and holds the device out again. A tear slides down his cheek as he takes it and slips it under his tongue.

While she waits for it to beep, Lisa retreats to the kitchen and fills a glass with water. She pours orange juice in another glass and grabs a box of crackers out of the pantry before returning to the living room. She sets the items down and removes the thermometer from Dean's lips.

"What's the damage?" Dean asks.

"101.2, could be worse." She shakes out a couple Tylenol and drops them into his outstretched palm. She passes him the water and he drinks half before handing it back.

Dean rests his elbows on his thighs and claps his hands on the back of his neck. Lisa sits down next to him and soothingly strokes his shoulder. He coughs twice into his fist and shudders.

Lisa snags the blanket off the couch arm and drapes it over his shoulders. "You wanna watch a movie?"

Dean shrugs. "I don't wanna ruin your day."

She gets up off the couch and strides over to the entertainment center. Lisa opens the movie drawer and runs her fingers across the DVD cases. She passes over all of Ben's action flicks knowing those will just wind Dean up. She skims the titles and grins when she finds the one she was searching for. She pops the disc out of the case and inserts it into the player. Lisa tugs the curtains closed in her way back to the couch.

She plops down on the cushion next to Dean, who has pulled the blanket snug around his body. Lisa presses the power button and the TV blinks to life.

"I called in hooky today," she says as she pushes play. "Decided I need a stress free day."

Dean nods and coughs. "What're we watching."

Lisa smirks. "_The Proposal_." Dean scowls. "Hey, I never get to watch my chick-flicks."

Dean snorts and leans back against the cushions, his eyes fixated on the scree. Lisa smiles at the genius of her plan. Not only did she get to watch one her favorite movies, but it will also act as a foolproof lull-a-bye. The non-action driven plot combine with soft-spoken dialogue is sure to put Dean to sleep. He survives a half-hour before he starts listing to the unoccupied cushion.

Lisa wraps her arm loosely around his shoulders and guides his body in the other direction. She keeps pressing him down until his head lies in her lap. He slowly blinks up at her with dewy eyes. An amused smirk crosses his lips as she slides a hand under his knees and gently coaxes his legs onto the couch. She drapes an arm across his chest and lightly drags her fingers along his t-shirt. Lisa turns the volume down a couple clicks and Dean sighs, his eyes slipping closed as he sinks further against her leg.

He stays like that for a good hour and then the dog barks. It's not even a real dog prancing down the sidewalk outside the window; it's a puppy on the TV. One yap from the dog and Dean jolts up, almost clipping Lisa in the chin with his head.

Dean swings his legs over the side of the couch and sits rigidly, ready to spring into action at a moments notice. His unfocused eyes wildly jump around the room. His breath comes out in short, choking bursts.

For a moment, Lisa is startled. She leaps back in her seat with a surprised squeak. But when she realizes what's happening she hastily surges into action. She moves over and sits on the table directly in front of Dean's line of sight. He gazes straight through her, breaths coming out even faster, eyes as big a saucers. Lisa has the urge to snap his fingers by his ear, but logic overrides. Sudden noises probably aren't welcome.

Panic rises in her chest as Dean's skin tone drops another shade and he beings to tremble. Then, the solution crashes into her. Sam. What would Sam do? Almost instantly after that she knows how to help.

Lisa latches onto his hand. He squeezes back with such ferocity she swears she hears bones break. But, she doesn't let that faze her. She lightly sweeps her thumb in a curricular pattern across his clammy skin. Lisa hops the feather light touch grounds him back on Earth.

"Hey Dean," she says softly. "You remember when we first met?" He blinks. "It was what, early 1999? You were twenty, I was twenty-one. I remember it was some dingy biker bar, smelled of smoke, booze, and motor oil. You had just finished hustlin' pool when you drifted over to my friends and I. You leaned against that bar next to me, all cocky in that leather jacket of yours with that charming win-all smile." Dean's breathing slows slightly, gasping only occasionally. "And what did you say?"

"C-can I b-buy you-u a d-drink, S-sweet H-heart," Dean stutters.

Lisa smiles in relief. "And then you became best-night-of-my-life-Dean."

He attempts to laugh but it comes out more like a stifled cough. Lisa returns to her seat on the couch. He's still tense and shaking slightly, his skin glistens with sweat.

"You okay?" She asks. He nods. "Didn't know you were afraid of dogs."

Dean stiffens. "Didn't used to be." He goes back to watching the movie cutting off further communication.

After about five minutes, Dean starts to squirm, shifting his weight from one side of his body to the other and nervously glancing over towards her. Lisa shoots him a reassuring smile as she reaches her arm out to him. She grips his shoulder and pulls him against her. Dean scoots down until his head is pillowed in her lap again. He sighs contentedly as she throws the blanket over his body. Lisa rakes her figures through his hair, but stops when he tenses up.

"No," Dean breathes out. "That…uhhh…feels nice."

Lisa places her arm back across his chest and absentmindedly plays with his hair with the other hand. He lets out a long breath as exhaustion consumes him.

* * *

For once in weeks, possibly even years, Dean rouses slowly. He's drifting in a semi-conscious state. His limbs feel waterlogged and his brain is filled with cotton balls. But, there's something pleasant wafting through the air. Dean deeply inhales, pulling the wonderful scent in. He cracks his eyes open, blinking a couple times to clear the fuzziness.

Dean shifts slightly and that's when he notices he's alone. He shoots upright, aching muscles protesting. The room is cloaked in darkness, the only light filtering in from the streetlights. Terror settles in his chest.

_'Lisa's not here,'_ he thinks. _'What if a demon broke in…kidnapped her…and Ben?'_ His breathing speeds up. _'Oh, god…what if they're being used as bait?'_

The world fades away as Dean formulates how to track the son of a bitch down and send his ass straight back to the Pit.

"Hey! Dean! Hey!" A voice cuts through the fog and there's a pressure on his neck, forcing his head down. Dean struggles weakly. "Dean it's okay. You're okay. Settle down, I'm right here."

The quiet litany eventually cuts through the panic. "Lisa?"

"Hey Dean," Lisa says sweetly. "Sorry, Ben got home."

He runs a hand down his face and nods. "'S okay."

"I gotta go make sure Ben doesn't burn down the kitchen," she says as she gestures in that direction. "Dinner will be ready soon."

He wants to tell her that he's not hungry, but, instead just grunts in response. He figures he can choke down a few mouthfuls for her. Dean leans his head back and groans. He finally slept for more than three hours and he still feels as if he could pass out for at least another week. He doesn't even realize he's dozed off until Lisa gently shakes his shoulder.

"Ben wants to watch _Fast &amp; Furious, _you good with that?"

"That's fine," Dean replies. "Dinner?"

"Yeah," Lisa says and Dean starts to push himself up. "Don't." She presses him back down. "TV dinner, Ben insisted on making this for you."

Dean settles back down and Lisa leave the room. She returns a few minutes later carrying two steaming bowls and Ben trails behind her holding a glass of juice. She sets the bowls down before returning to the kitchen to get the last bowl. While she's gone, Ben places the glass in front of Dean and gets the movie set up before plopping down in the armchair.

"You ever seen this?" Ben asks.

"Can't say I have," Dean says.

Ben's eyes light up. "It's awesome!"

Lisa enters and hands the bowl before sitting down on the couch. She picks up her own bowl and passes the other over the Dean. Ben jabs the play button and the room fills up with roaring car engines.

Dean gazes down at the soup. There are chunks of chicken, carrots, and peas, but the best part is the noodles. They aren't the thin, spaghetti like ones; they're the fat, curly ones. Dean smiles and slurps up a spoonful. The flavor is like fireworks exploding in his mouth and he quickly finishes the entire bowl.

The soup warms him up making him drowsy. His head drops down onto Lisa's shoulder and she pulls him in close, running her hand along his arm. He gropes around on the cushion until his fingers brush against her skin. Dean interlocks their hands and traces patterns across her flesh.

There's still a gaping Sam-sized hole in his heart. But, this is what Sammy wanted. This was his dying wish. The nightmares will never stop and he knows he'll soon be reacquainted with his pal Mr. Jack Daniels. But, every Apple Pie Life has it's rough patches, that's what makes it normal.

* * *

Whew, that was a long one. I think that's all for this story, thanks for sticking with me :) Hope you all enjoyed, drop a review and let me know, I'd love to hear from you. Have an amazing day!


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